


Mixed Signals

by WhyNotFly



Series: The Aro Archives [8]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aromantic Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), But the focus is on the platonic love and support of the four of them, Crying, Happy Ending, Jon has a lil crush on Tim, M/M, Male police officer gets angry, Muscle Martin!!!, OG archives crew, Season 1, Season one grumpy boss Jon stereotype used for the greater good!, attempted forcing an uninterested character to go on a date, brief victim self blaming, happy valentines!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:33:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29431041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhyNotFly/pseuds/WhyNotFly
Summary: There’s some sort of glittery streamer dangling down from the top of the doorway leading into the Archives.  Hot pink, with little hearts of different sizes swaying gently in the still air.  They hadn’t been there when Jon came into work this morning, he’s sure he would have noticed something sooffensiveto the eyes.  It’s garishly out of place in the properly somber decor of the Archives.  Jon reaches up, grasping the bottom of a tiny vinyl heart and rubbing it distastefully between his fingers.  Anyone could have put it up between Jon’s modestly too early arrival and now, but Jon would put money on the fact that it was Tim.It would certainly explain the unusually high level of amusement in his grin when he came to deliver his report on the Wharton case.  Generally, in Jon’s experience, houses spontaneously burning down don’t tend to evoke a great deal of levity.***Tim gets an unexpected visitor.  Luckily, he has his grumpy old boss to back him up.
Relationships: Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Aro Archives [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714381
Comments: 13
Kudos: 98
Collections: TMA Valentine's Exchange 2021





	Mixed Signals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosy_cheekx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosy_cheekx/gifts).



> Happy Valentines Bryce!!! I hope you enjoy it!!!!

If Jon had to pick his least favorite day of the year to work at the Institute, it would certainly be Halloween. All the wasted hours writing down any kind of mindless drivel the local hooligans think is _funny_ to flood their channels with. Jon’s quite adept by this point in his life at knowing when he’s being mocked, and it happening in his place of work while taking up his precious time certainly does not make it more enjoyable. He shudders to think about the quite literal three ring circus his poor office turns into every year, crawling with costumed menaces. Yes, Halloween is by far the worst day of the year, in Jon’s opinion.

But Valentines is a close second.

There’s some sort of glittery streamer dangling down from the top of the doorway leading into the Archives. Hot pink, with little hearts of different sizes swaying gently in the still air. They hadn’t been there when Jon came into work this morning, he’s sure he would have noticed something so _offensive_ to the eyes. It’s garishly out of place in the properly somber decor of the Archives. Jon reaches up, grasping the bottom of a tiny vinyl heart and rubbing it distastefully between his fingers. Anyone could have put it up between Jon’s modestly too early arrival and now, but Jon would put money on the fact that it was Tim.

It would certainly explain the unusually high level of amusement in his grin when he came to deliver his report on the Wharton case. Generally, in Jon’s experience, houses spontaneously burning down don’t tend to evoke a great deal of levity.

Tim’s like that though. What’s the word? Effusive. His passions tend to bubble up and spill out around him in something of a splash zone of forced joviality. Jon still thinks back with a vague horror on the degree of Christmas gear he’d managed to wheedle the rest of them into wearing this year. And Jon doesn’t even celebrate.

Valentines does seem like it would be up Tim’s alley. He’s certainly affectionate, and obviously prolific in his own dating life, not to mention unnecessarily involved in the dating life of others. Jon would be surprised if he didn’t have some big plans lined up for after—

The door at the top of the stairs creaks open, somewhat surprising considering none of Jon’s assistants had left for lunch yet and people don’t tend to come down. Jon waits at the entranceway, staring up at the man as he descends into view. 

It’s a total stranger, Jon’s never seen him before in his life and he’s rather proud of his knack for faces. He’s tall, tall enough that Jon has to crick his neck back somewhat to see him properly, with broad, wind-bitten cheeks on a stout square face. The bulk of his body is hidden by a puffy black winter coat. It must be cold outside.

“Can I help you?” Jon asks, reshuffling his armload of files from one hand to the other.

“Cute decorations.” The man reaches out and sweeps the silly, dangling heart streamers out of the way as he steps fully into the archives. 

“Company spirit,” Jon replies, icily, unable to keep his dissatisfaction with the unprofessional state of his archives entirely out of his voice. “It _is_ a holiday.”

“I like it.” The man reaches up and loosens his scarf, showing more of his bare, chapped skin. “I’ve always been a bit of a romantic.”

“Are you here to give a statement?” Jon looks away, unnerved by the man’s heavy hazel eyes that dig straight through him.

“Oh no, I’m here meeting a, uh, a _friend_. I have important follow up on the case he’s investigating.” The man says _friend_ with an audible smugness in his voice, like he could wink with the word, and only then does Jon look back up and recognize the wrapped bundle of pink and white tissue paper cradled in the man’s arms. From the very top, Jon can just barely make out the curling red of rose petals.

“Ah.”

“Right.” The man reaches up and pulls off his knit cap, shaking out his loose gray-brown hair for a moment, and scratching once at his stubbled cheek before shoving the hat into his jacket pocket. “So if you could just point me over to Tim’s office, I’d like to surprise him.”

Jon’s anger flares up instinctively. Tim can’t just have his...his _boytoy_ come flouncing into their place of business, using the investigation as some excuse to canoodle during working hours. Tim can use whatever research methods he wants to gather intel, but Jon’s not about to see this place turn into some sorority for gentlemen callers to rap at the door. If he wants a social life, he can have one _outside._ But a more reasonable voice that sounds suspiciously like Martin rises in the back of Jon’s mind saying _it’s a holiday, and it’s practically time for his lunch break. It’s hardly a big deal._

So all Jon does is sigh and step out of the man’s way. “He’s back in document storage doing some organizational work. It’s that door there, on the left.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” says the man, which is almost more disorienting than it is insulting, but it isn’t his place as Tim’s boss to judge who he spends his time with. Maybe back when they were researchers together, Jon could have….no. Tim’s romantic pursuits are not Jon’s business, period.

“You alright, Jon?” Jon is startled out of his thoughts and realizes abruptly that he’s been staring at the closed door to document storage where the stranger disappeared into several minutes ago. When he looks over, Jon sees Sasha leaning over slightly, extending the hand that isn’t gripped around a tea mug to waggle her fingers in front of his face.

“Yes, yes I’m alright, Sasha.” Jon shakes his head lightly, trying to clear out the thoughts. “Just got a bit distracted, is all.”

“Distracted by something other than work? That doesn’t sound like you.” Sasha takes a meaningful sip of her tea, doubtlessly to hide the teasing grin she feels on the inside. “Was it Tim’s artful decorations that did it?”

“I _knew_ that was him,” Jon snaps, swatting at the dangling strings of hearts twirling distractingly in the corner of his vision.

“What can I say? He loves love.”

“Yes, well, I wish he could keep his _love_ from walking directly into the archives and distracting him from all the important work we have to do.”

“What?” Sasha cocks an eyebrow.

“His _date_ ,” Jon grumbles. “I understand that it’s Valentine’s Day, but it’s also 11am on a Tuesday, and the Institute should have at least a little decorum.”

“Tim has a date?” Sasha’s tone spikes higher than her eyebrows and she looks immediately towards document storage with undisguised interest. Knowing Sasha as Jon does, she’s probably on the verge of crawling through the vents to spy on them. Jon reminds himself to never let Sasha get wind of any of his _own_ personally compromising information, or god forbid _feelings._

“I don’t know why you sound so shocked by that. It’s _Tim_. He has the—” Jon gestures helplessly with his free hand— “The cheekbones and the hair and whatnot. Silver fox, I think they call it? He’s always bragging about his charms, I seriously doubt he struggles in the romantic department.”

“Yeah I mean, sure, he likes to _flirt_ ,” Sasha says, as if flirting is the simplest feat to achieve in the world. “It’s fun, gives him confidence. But he always told _me_ he didn’t mean anything by it. Not actually interested in people, my _ass_.” Sasha leans eagerly over the rim of her mug, her eyes glittering as she stares at the door, waiting for someone to emerge. “I can’t imagine the kind of person who could manage to steal the heart of _Timothy Stoker._ ”

Anxiety settles like day old coffee in Jon’s gut. “Sasha, where’s Martin?”

Sasha flicks her eyes over to him, clearly confused by the sudden change in topic. “He’s in the break room. He made me this tea. I think he’s mixing up a cup for you and Tim also.”

“Could you go fetch him please?”

“Uh, sure?” Sasha responds, hesitantly. “Is he in trouble?”

“No.” Jon wraps both his arms around the file folder and squeezes it briefly to his chest. “Nobody’s going to be in any trouble.”

As soon as Sasha is out of eyeshot, Jon wastes no time in rushing to the back of the archives, his eyes fixed on the door to document storage. The climate control keeps it more or less soundproofed, and it isn’t until Jon gets a grip on the handle that he hears a bit of the conversation bleeding through.

“—what you wanted. You were the one who said—”

Jon throws the door open hard enough that it hits the wall with an audible bang. Tim and the stranger look up immediately. They’re standing almost on top of each other, Tim’s hand pressed to the broad chest of the other man, his cheeks dusted red as if Jon had walked in on an embarrassingly intimate moment. But there is a strange tension in the muscles of Tim’s arm where he presses up against the stranger, and behind them, almost hidden by their bodies, the man’s other hand is gripped tight around Tim’s wrist.

Jon narrows his eyes, swallowing down his discomfort with visible affection and summoning up every bit of snappish workaholic he has buried inside himself. Which—according to everyone he’s ever dated, worked with, or known for more than a few minutes—is a fair bit.

“You said this was work related, Mister….?”

“Officer,” the man corrects, clearly frustrated with the interruption. “Officer Keene.”

“The Officer Keene quoted on the report about Edwin McHarley’s conviction for kidnapping?”

“That’s the one,” Officer Keene smiles and his teeth are shiny white. “Timmy here needed a bit more info and I figured I could pass it along over lunch, is all.”

“Tim?” Jon shifts his gaze. “Is this true?”

Tim looks up at Officer Keene and then back at Jon. His smile flickers like a candle, as if he’s struggling to find the joviality he forces into his voice. “Y-yeah. Yeah we were just, just going to go to lunch.”

Jon’s never seen Tim’s eyes like this, panicked, scanning back and forth. A caged dog looking for an exit. The Tim that Jon knows is always confident, always in control. The mature one. The kind of person Jon wished he could become if he managed to live another ten years without the stress of this job giving him a brain aneurysm.

Jon lifts the folder in his hands meaningfully towards them. “You mean this case? Case 0052802?” 

The string of numbers means nothing. It’s not the designation of the case in his hands, and it’s certainly not the designation of the McHarley disappearance. Jon can barely hear himself speak over the pounding of his pulse in his own ear.

“Um,” Tim chuckles nervously, “yes. That one, yes.”

“You mean this pile of _trash?_ ” Jon slams the file folder to the ground where it hits with a satisfying splat, sending papers scattering all across the floor. “You call this a report? I’ve found more mistakes in your citations than infractions in your dress code! It’s poorly researched, the write up is infantile, I have half a mind to send you back up to the library until you relearn the basics of your position.”

“You,” Jon jabs a finger at Tim and lowers his voice until it’s as commanding and thunderous as he can possibly make it. “Are off this case.”

“Now hold on just a moment,” Officer Keene cuts in, turning to face Jon completely. With his attention split, he loosens his grip enough for Tim to rescue his wrist and stumble a quick step backwards.

“I am so sorry you had to get caught up in such incompetence, Officer,” Jon barrels on, afraid to stop in case he loses his momentum. “I would be glad to take down your crucial information and make sure it’s filed properly.”

“Actually,” there’s that smile again, dazzlingly white and as cold as his eyes, “I really feel more comfortable with Tim. And we already have a reservation.”

“A shame.” Jon steps forward and plants a foot on the discarded file folder laying on the ground. “Because I’m afraid Tim is going to lose his lunch break privileges until he corrects every single mistake he made in his report.”

“What kind of barbaric—”

“I don’t know what sort of slapstick operation they’re running in your precinct,” Jon crosses his arms firmly and tilts his head up until he can stare the long distance directly up into Officer Keene’s eyes, “but in _my_ archives we take our work _seriously._ ”

The moment settles, silent and tense. Jon’s not really sure what his plan is here, the officer might as well be three Jons stacked inside a winter coat. Instinct and momentum have gotten him this far, but if this turns into a fight Jon is a snowflake in hell. Suddenly, he hears footsteps approaching behind him, from the main archives, and Jon breaks eye contact to turn back and see Sasha and Martin coming in to see what’s happening. 

“Ah, there we are.” Jon lifts a hand and smiles at Officer Keene, cold and sharp. “You can go ahead and leave your statement with Mr. Blackwood.”

Jon may have seen Martin abandon his work to ferry a stray ladybird outside to safety one too many times to find him properly intimidating, but for a stranger? Martin is built like a truck. Jon watches with a certain vindictive enjoyment as a bit of the angry color drains from Officer Keene’s face.

“Or, if you don’t have anything to add to the case, the exit is just upstairs. But either way I’ll have to politely request that you stop distracting my employees before their work quality plummets to an even more infantile level.”

Officer Keene scowls, his whole face pulling down in a deeply unpleasant way. He looks from Jon to Tim who is standing dumbfounded like a fish on a hook, mouth flopping open and closed. Jon folds his arms and stares him down, his confidence buoyed by the backup waiting at the door.

“ _Fine_ ,” Officer Keene hisses out, his bouquet crunching as he snatches it off a nearby shelf. He stalks towards the door, Martin and Sasha parting silently to give him room to leave. Just as he reaches it, he swings around and brandishes the flowers at Tim, pointedly.

“Your boss,” he snaps, “is a _fucking monster_.”

And then he turns on his heel and marches off, slapping away the dangling pink heart streamers that tangle around his head as he goes.

There’s a thump as Tim’s legs go out from under him and he collapses to the ground.

Jon is the first one to his side, kneeling down and waving his hands around uselessly, not sure how to help. He’s always been useless in this kind of situation. 

“I hope I didn’t just break up your Valentine’s date,” Jon says, shooting for levity and ending up sounding horribly awkward.

Tim laughs once, strained and broken. “Yeah, you’re a… a real mood killer, boss. Where did that...where did that come from?” 

“I did a few theater classes in college,” Jon admits, looking away as his cheeks heat to preserve some modicum of pride. “Glorified literature courses, really. All very intellectual.”

Tim laughs again, almost hysterical, and as he squeezes his eyes shut, tears begin to tumble down his cheeks. “Ah shit, now I’m making a big deal out of it all.”

Tim goes to wipe at his cheeks and his hand is shaking noticeably. “I-it really wasn’t anything. I’m fine, I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

“Tim,” Sasha says, coming down to sit on his other side and gripping his hand tight between both of hers.

“It was my own fault really,” Tim keeps trying to smile and Jon can barely stand to look at it. “You always warned me, didn’t you, boss? That I’d bring drama into the archives if I kept going around leading everyone on. And then one person comes and all he, all he does is _ask me out_ and I end up crying and—”

“That is _not_ your fault.” Jon looks over as Martin kneels down in front of Tim, resting one hand on his calf, and now both he and Sasha are touching him so maybe it would be okay for Jon to try. Just a little physical comfort. That would be acceptable.

“It’s really not a big deal. You don’t all have to bother with me, I’m fine,” Tim insists, spreading his free hand in front of him.

“We don’t _have_ to bother with you. We choose to.” Jon reaches out tentatively for Tim’s arm and in the last moment loses his nerve and simply pats him gently, once, before pulling his hand back to his lap. “You’re my responsibility, after all.”

Tim chuckles again and shoots Jon a warm smile, something finally genuine, full of gratitude. Like his usual effusive self. Jon stares into Tim’s eyes and feels like maybe he could melt there, maybe this is even better than getting to hold his hand. 

“I feel safer already.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't you just love the warm love and support of og archives crew??? Warms my lil heart this valentines day. Hope you all enjoyed!
> 
> If you liked this, you can find me on tumblr [@apatheticbutterflies](https://apatheticbutterflies.tumblr.com/) I post writing and occasional meta!! I'm very fun and nice :D


End file.
